dejah_thoris | [Milliways] White Upon White

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[Milliways] White Upon White

He'd only left an hour ago. Darkness had fallen and the storm outside was screaming and tearing at the building. It was lunacy to go out in this weather. But he was out there, and in only the clothes he'd put on this morning. He and Edgar both.

They'd die out there, surely, if they didn't get a move on.

Woola whined at her, picking up on the desperation she felt crawling down her spine. She'd put on her winter coat and boots, and taken the goggles bar had given her. Ellen and Ysalwen were already waiting for her at the backdoor. She handed each of them one of the electric lanterns Bar had provided.

"Are we ready? Do we need anything else?"

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Dejah looks up to Ysa and whispers a quiet thanks. Once Edgar's is done, she helps Curtis with his.

"There." She lifts his face and tries to get him to focus on her. "Let's get you home."

The world feels like it's coming back into focus. Not much, but a little: enough to make out Dejah's face, wrapped as it is in all her layers. He's still cold as hell, but he can deal with cold. He knows the cold.

"'S ten car lengths," he tries to inform her through his chattering teeth. "Yeah?"

She does a quick calculation in her head. "Give or take," she murmurs with a touch of relief. He's speaking; that's good, right? She draws him up to his feet, mimicking the hands-rubbing-upper-arms motion he did for her not so long ago.

"Come closer to the fire, so we can get you warm again." Her voice rings with deep concern for him. He's here now, but fear still grips her heart. He's not home yet. Not safe.

"Starting to wish I had Shiphrah and-"

The black-clad figure with Ellen's voice pauses.

"Can Liranan help warm them up? Dogmeat would, but he's not here."

Liranan yips once, into the storm, then attempts to lend his weight and heat to whoever seems like they need it most.

Ysalwen moves to bracket him, because she is tiny but contains a great deal of body heat.

(And a judicious flame in her hand. The lamp she has left on the ground, just now.)

Edgar leans into the heat, ignoring the prickling pain as the feeling starts to come back into his cheeks, his fingers. He still can't feel his feet; he's trying not to think about that.

"Gotta," he manages through the convulsive shivering, "we gotta get. Back inside."

"We should let the others know," Ellen says, and reaches for the radio. "Team-"

Did they have team names? She doesn't remember.

"-uh, not with Dejah? This is Ellen Park- we found both men..."

There's the crackle of wind from the other side for a moment, then the static clears. "Thanks--" the next words are lost in wind and a yelp. After a moment's silence, the walkie talkie comes back on "--f busy. Out!"

Edited 2016-03-13 23:24 (UTC)

Dejah's head came up and she glanced to Ysa, her hands still steadying Curtis as he got to his feet.

"That sounded like combat. We need to get moving."

"That truly did," Ysalwen allows, expression settling into sharp lines.

"All right. Up we get."

She'll help Edgar up if he needs it, with Liranan's assistance.

"Of all the times to wish I were a shapeshifter -- "

A bereskarn could definitely handle tracking Chuck and Alistair down in this storm.

"I just wish Fawkes were here," Ellen mutters. "Let's move."

Shapeshifter?

No, he couldn't have heard that right.

He leans heavily against Dejah as she helps him to his feet. Whatever was in that vial restored some of his strength, but it hasn't stopped all of the shivering; his limbs shake as he tries to get one arm around her, and his right hand may as well be frozen shut into a fist.

Curtis raises his eyes to the beacon of fire. His lips shape a single word: okay.

Right foot. Left foot. One step at a time, with Dejah on one side and Edgar not too far away on the other.

Even with the extra energy from the vial, Edgar's having trouble focusing.

Let's move, someone says, and he manages to lurch ahead, stumbling over his own numb feet. The voice doesn't quite sound like Curtis, and the steadying arm he's leaning on doesn't feel like his, but who else would it be?

Dejah is not about to leave Curtis's side. She focuses on him and by extension, Edgar, trusting the others to guide them back to the bar.

"We're not far at all. I've got you." She continues a quiet litany of soothing encouragement, willing warmth into her voice and her hands. The blue light of his arm flickers in response and he should feel warmth spreading from that source as well.

When they get back to the pillar of flame, Ysalwen will hand out another round of stamina draughts.

One goes to Dejah as well, and Ellen if she'll take one.

"Walking in this is exhausting, and we've been out here quite some time already. I don't want it sneaking up on anyone when we're pressing for the Bar."

A faint hesitation --

"I wish it felt safer to head back to our last place of shelter and weather the rest of this storm there, but I think -- "

Well, dead or no, Curtis and Edgar would benefit from some kind of medical treatment.

" -- I don't think any of us want to run the risk of permanent damage to you two. So."

She'll still the winds immediately around them again, instead. The flaming pillar will go out soon, anyway.

"I have a number of stimpaks here for any injuries that need them," says Ellen as she pulls the headpiece down enough for that stamina draught. "I've used them plenty of times myself, so I can vouch for their safety. And their effectiveness. Up to you if you need them, though."

"'M fine," Curtis offers in weak protest. "Just gotta rest."

How far have they gone? It feels like he's walked the whole length of the train, even with that...whatever it was the white-haired woman gave them. It can't be much farther.

Dejah may find she has to take more of Curtis's weight as they keep moving forward.

"Not," Edgar manages to say, "not out here --"

A particularly vicious gust dashes snow crystals against them all ... and then the wind dies down, almost to nothing.

Snow's still falling, but less thickly every second.

Dejah takes his weight, gladly, her arm gripping him like she's afraid if she lets go, she'll lose him entirely. "I've got you. I've got you. You can rest when we get home, I promise."

Her head comes up when the wind falters and stills.

"Ysa? Was that you?"

"No."

Ysa has gone still, looking around her with a furrowed brow.

"No, that wasn't me at all. I -- "

Hmm.

"I think we should make tracks for the bar as quickly as we can. That was -- a very abrupt transition for something natural."

And, well, given her death magic --

"Something's died out there."

Edited 2016-03-16 02:49 (UTC)

Dejah puts her head down and swears under her breath. As if the weather wasn't horrible enough, now it has to be linked to some greater life force? What's next? Ice spiders or plant men?

She gives the woman a wry smile. "I'm beginning to feel like I'm trapped in one of my nephew's adventure stories." Her voice drops into a command tone, digging deep as much for herself as for them.

"Let's take advantage while we can. Ellen, help Edgar. Ysa, help me with Curtis. We'll make better time with both of us. Woola, Liranan, lead us back."

Ysalwen just nods, slipping past Curtis and positioning herself under his arm, with a judicious use of a force shield to let her actually support him at a comfortable height -- for him.

(She's short, it happens.)

Liranan, meanwhile, forges ahead, using his keen direction sense and the occasional trace of their scent to navigate back. He will also help Woola break trail, since the calot can move a lot faster than the mabari.

Edited 2016-03-16 18:38 (UTC)

"Sure," says Ellen, and heads over to Edgar; she's got her goggles around her neck now, since she's really, really hoping not to have to track any more scents today. "C'mon, this shouldn't be too hard- hold on tight, the suit can be a little slippery. And I want to send a message ahead anyway."

She holds up the radio handset with the arm that's not ready for Edgar-support.

"Central, this is Dejah's team. We're on our way back. So long as nothing surprises us we should be there pretty shortly."

Edgar leans against Ellen's arm, trying hard to stay aware of what's happening. Some unfamiliar, crackling voice is answering her in words that he can't make cohere into a sentence -- copy that, Team A, hurry back -- and he wants to ask who it is but gets distracted by the need to move again, stumbling in the snow.

At least the wind isn't buffeting then anymore.

Dejah clenches a fist across her chest, trying to still ever-increasing shivering. Her other hand grips around Curtis's waist and she is eternally grateful for Ysa's help. She can't feel her feet, so she has to focus very hard on where she steps.

She keeps her head down and follows in Woola's and Liranan's tracks. Good calot. Good mabari. Praise Issus.

She cuts a glance at Curtis. His complexion is ashen, and his lips are almost white. "One foot in front of the other, right? We know how to do this."

One foot.

In front.

Of the other.

Edited 2016-03-16 21:03 (UTC)

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2goodarms - 2016-03-17 00:10 (UTC) - Expand

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